Free Rough Justice by Stephen Leather

were assaulted and nearly crippled, and no matter how you cut it, that’s not the role of the police in a civilised society.’
    ‘Charlie, nothing that you’ve said directly points to the cops,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘Yeah, it could be the militant wing of Neighbourhood Watch,’ said Sharpe.
    Button opened her mouth to snap at Sharpe, but Shepherd put up a hand to interrupt her. ‘Razor actually has a point,’ he said. ‘It could be civilians. There are plenty of anti-drug groups that have got fairly violent in the past. Could be civilian workers within the Met. I don’t see why you’re assuming it’s cops that have gone bad.’
    ‘The van that was seen near to where the dead paedophile was found. We have a partial number plate.’
    ‘And how did we get that, pray tell?’
    ‘A dosser with a pretty good memory, considering he’s an alcoholic who’s been on the streets for going on twenty years,’ said Button. ‘He remembered the first two numbers and there were three letters in the plate that were his daughter’s initials, so that was enough to tie it to one of three vans used by the Territorial Support Group in north-west London.’ She wrote the numbers and letters on the whiteboard and underlined them.
    ‘The TSG?’ said Sharpe. ‘I remember the good old days when they were the SPG, the Special Patrol Group. A rose by any other name.’
    ‘The SPG was disbanded in 1987,’ said Button, archly. ‘But, yes, the TSG, or CO20, carries out the same function as the SPG used to, pretty much.’
    ‘They’re the heavy mob,’ said Sharpe. ‘They go in with shields and truncheons where other bobbies fear to tread.’
    ‘They have an anti-terrorism role, these days,’ said Button. ‘But you’re right. They are there to provide a level-one response to disorder throughout the capital, and reducing crime that has been determined to be a priority.’
    ‘Like I said, the heavy mob,’ said Sharpe.
    Shepherd nodded thoughtfully. ‘And the plan is to send me and Razor in as cops?’
    ‘Just you,’ said Button. ‘I doubt we’d get away with two new faces appearing at the same time. I’ll arrange for you to report for duty next Monday so you’ll have the rest of the week off. I’ll talk to Jenny Lock and get a place fixed up for you in north London.’ Jenny Lock was one of SOCA’s dressers, providing the props necessary to back up an undercover legend. Shepherd had met her two years previously when she’d helped provide his background for a job in Belfast. Button slid a sheet of blank paper across the desk. ‘We’ll need a signature for the warrant card and ancillary ID. Name of Terry Halligan.’
    ‘Terry or Terrence?’
    ‘Terry,’ said Button.
    Shepherd signed the sheet of paper and gave it back to Button. She took a thick file from her briefcase and gave it to him. ‘Some light reading for you,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot to absorb there so take it home with you. I’ll need you back in London on Sunday – bring it with you then. It’s got all the details of the Serials you’ll come across.’
    ‘Serials?’
    ‘The operational units of the TSG. Basically three vans each with a sergeant and six constables, all reporting to an inspector. We know that the van seen in Kilburn came from the TSG base at Paddington Green, just down the road from here. We think, because of the operational duties they were on that day, that we can narrow it down to two of the Serials. But in the file I’ve included photos and details on all the TSG staff at the station, plus any other senior officers you might come across. I’ve already checked that there’s no one at Paddington Green that you’ve run into before.’
    ‘I’m not happy about going under cover against cops,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘Your legend will be watertight,’ said Button.
    ‘That’s not what I’m worried about,’ said Shepherd. ‘They’re cops, Charlie. We’re on the same side.’
    ‘They’ve committed assault, GBH, perjury,